


challenge six

by orphan_account



Series: Summer Pornathon '14 [6]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur/bike OTP!!!!, M/M, Motorbikes, Possessiveness, Summer Pornathon 2014, possessive!Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:38:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2275239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is jealous of Arthur's bike. (No, seriously.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	challenge six

**Author's Note:**

> challenge six, 'cycles'. I don't even know, okay. All I know is ARTHUR/MOTORBIKE OTP!!!!!! :D I FUCKING LOVE ARTHUR ON A MOTORBIKE, OKAY, OR ANY COMBINATION OF ARTHUR/MOTORBIKE I CAN POSSIBLY GET. I WAS SO FUCKING OVERJOYED I WAS ABLE TO WRITE THIS FOR PORNATHON. YOU DON'T KNOW HOW EXCITED I WAS. HOW VERY, VERY EXCITED. UGH.
> 
> And, yes, this is indeed porn, and not crack.
> 
> This entry (like all others) is the initial, i.e. longer, version, not the 750-max-words of summerpornathon.

He could still feel her humming under his hand. God, but what an afternoon: the sun burning on his bare forearms, the headwind’s pressure against his chest, the landscape a blur. She was fierce: one impression of colours followed another lightning-quick as she roared away between his legs. Fierce and beautiful, his bike, and Arthur didn’t regret the afternoon he spent chasing adrenaline riding her.

Now to get changed. He still had an hour before Merlin—

“Caught you,” came a sudden voice from behind. “ _In flagrante delicto_.”

Arthur whipped around. Merlin was leaning against the shed’s door frame, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. Looking _knowing_. Arthur immediately jerked his hand away from his bike’s frame and resisted the urge to glance down at himself: biker boots, leather trousers, and a white shirt that, sweat-soaked, stuck to his stomach and chest.

“Not what it looks like,” he blurted, and Merlin said, “ _So_ what it looks like,” and, bugger, there was no escape route: Merlin was already advancing.

He came to a halt before Arthur, mustering him silently. Sticking his hands into his pockets, Arthur refused to look down like a guilty schoolboy caught looking at his teacher’s knickers.

Merlin touched his left shoulder and throat. “Dislocated shoulder and cervical collar,” he said. “And almost a jaw fracture.”

There’d always be tossers on the road. Arthur shrugged, tried not to shuffle his feet. “Keyword being ‘almost’...”

“Still too much.” The heel of Merlin’s palm pressed into the soft flesh of the underside of Arthur’s jaw, insistent. Merlin’s face was close. Arthur could smell his breath, minty. “If she breaks this, I break her.”

Arthur scowled. “It’s not her fault—”

“No; it’s yours.” Merlin paused. “For being so obsessed with her.”

“What—”

“We had a deal, Arthur.” Merlin’s voice was lower now. “But of course you couldn’t wait to get on her again, could you? You’ve been itching to, been restless with it.”

Arthur flushed even as he frowned. “I don’t know what—”

Merlin gripped Arthur’s chin between thumb and his other fingers, raising his face so Arthur was forced to meet his eyes. “Don’t deny it,” Merlin said. “You got your arse on her seat the second I left this morning, didn’t you?”  

Arthur clenched his jaw. Merlin, feeling the movement with his fingers, licked his lips. “Caught you. _In flagrante delicto_ ,” he murmured. “This”—Merlin tightened his grip on Arthur’s jaw—“is mine. No one else is allowed to break it.”

Arthur spluttered. “S-stop being ridiculous—”

“ _Jaw fracture_.” Merlin shook Arthur’s jaw gently, making Arthur’s teeth click together. “If she breaks you, _I break her_.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Arthur snapped, irked on his bike’s behalf. His hand shot up, and he gripped Merlin’s wrist. “She’s mine—”

Merlin went still, and the entire atmosphere shifted. He watched Arthur for a long moment, then let him go. Arthur, off-kilter, swallowed, hand left uselessly in the air. Merlin’s eyes, suddenly gone dark, rooted Arthur to the spot. He couldn’t look away.

“Oh, is she?” Merlin asked silkily. His smile was slow, sly, dangerous. “Well, if she is…”

He took a step closer. Instinctively, Arthur took one back.

“...then she’s mine, too.”

Another step forward for Merlin; another step back for Arthur. It made Arthur bump against his bike so she swayed in her stand. “Merlin, can’t you—”

“No,” Merlin cut him off, ignoring his protest. The bike still wobbled dangerously, and Arthur made the split-second decision of turning around to put his hands against the wall so he could save his bike from crashing to the ground. He grit his teeth. Stupid. Ridiculous, this—

Suddenly Merlin was a bold, alluring wall of body heat at Arthur’s back. “If she’s yours, she’s mine too,” Merlin muttered right into Arthur’s ear, hotly. “Because _you_ are _mine_.”

The anger was gone in a flash, because—that was Merlin’s cock against his arse, right there. God. Images of this morning assaulted Arthur’s mind. He, bent over the kitchen counter, taking Merlin’s frantic pounding—

A pitiful groan escaped him. “M-Merlin—”

“Mine,” Merlin hissed, threatening. The heavy _clink_ of Arthur’s belt was loud, the _snick_ of the zipper being undone chasing thrills down Arthur’s spine. Merlin’s fingers were a cold shock under Arthur’s trousers. In seconds he’d pulled them and Arthur’s pants down to Arthur’s thighs, exposing Arthur’s arse and crotch.

“Fuck,” Arthur gasped, didn’t know if he should press forward or back. His face was red in embarrassment, and now there was no way he could hide: his cock was obscenely pale against the black leather seat of his bike, and already hard. He felt Merlin’s chin on his shoulder as Merlin peered down at his erection. There was an exasperated huff of breath against Arthur’s cheek.

“Got you hard,” Merlin muttered right into Arthur’s ear, breath hot. The hair on the back of Arthur’s neck rose with each word. “Got you hard real fast and good, riding her, didn’t it? Stupid, bloody bike—”

Arthur drew in a sharp breath as Merlin bit at his neck, then choked as Merlin’s denim-covered crotch was thick and heavy against his arse. Merlin didn’t give him any time. He just spread Arthur’s cheeks with a hand, pressed himself forward so his bulge kept Arthur’s arse apart, and fisted Arthur’s cock. “If she’s your little slut, you’re mine,” he growled. “That makes her mine too, so I can do with her whatever I want.”

“Merlin,” Arthur protested weakly. His cock slid in the ring of Merlin’s hand, fast, the head of it skidding over the leather seat with every stutter of his hips, leaving a translucent gleam of white on the black. The delight of it burned sharply in Arthur’s guts.

“You’re going to come on that damn thing.” Merlin squeezed Arthur’s cock once, hard, before palming his balls, pinching them. “If you’re so fucking hot for her, then you’ll come on her,” Merlin said, shoving his hips forward, shoving his clothed cock against Arthur’s eager arse, staking claim. “Because I’m telling you to—”

Arms straining, shaking, Arthur’s head hung between his shoulders as Merlin imitated buggering him from behind and fondled his balls—and then he watched himself do it, watched his cock pulse and shoot strings of white over the leather. His arse clenched at that, around Merlin’s bulge, and Merlin gave his own shuddering moan against Arthur’s neck, slumping forward.

There was a wet patch against his arse now, but Arthur didn’t much mind. His arms, though, trembled from the heavy load at his back. “Fuck, Merlin,” he half-groaned, half-laughed, and Merlin only whispered groggily, “Indeed.”


End file.
